


Michael, Be Chill

by NerdiePi



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: idk how long this will be
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-05
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2019-02-11 02:32:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12925449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NerdiePi/pseuds/NerdiePi
Summary: What if the tables were turned? What if it was Michael who was confronted by Rich in the bathroom? What if it was Michael who had the Squip instead of Jeremy?





	Michael, Be Chill

          His whole world was turning around now. Michael screamed in agonizing pain, his body collapsing to the ground with a twitching and thrashing chaos. He was sure that he had never felt this level of pain in his life, at least nothing in comparison to the physical sensations. 

          His entire body felt as if it was out of his control, a sort of paralysis where he was still and unmoving and incapable of acting for himself, while his body quaked with its own volition. It scared him, terrified him, even. Was he dying? Was this what death felt like? Was his mom going to walk down into the basement to grab him for dinner only to stumble upon a cold and lifeless corpse next to a freshly opened bottle of crystal Pepsi and a heat changing Pac-Man mug of Mountain Dew?  
  
          Suddenly it stopped, body slumping to the ground and no longer spasming. He opened and closed his hands, caught his breath again, and lay there staring at the ceiling. He wondered if it was gone, hoping that it had indeed left. If he paid $400 to twitch and spasm on the floor to feel death for a moment and not a super drug but left with his life, then so be it. This kind of thinking was quickly lost with another scream and sharp inhale, along with tears beginning to travel down his warm cheeks. He lost his breath again, something caught in the back of his throat. He couldn’t control himself again. 

          He couldn’t control the multiple waves of spasming that knocked over his crystal Pepsi and caused it to spill everywhere. All the while a new voice in his head, speaking to him, low and calm. Collected. Cool?  
  
           _Calibration in process. Excuse the mild discomfort._ _Accessing neural memory._ _Accessing muscle memory. Access procedure complete. Michael Mell, welcome to your Super Quantum Unit Intel Processor. Your SQUIP._

          Michael gasped for air, in control now and shooting his body upwards into a sitting position, supporting himself while slapping his hand down into spilled, clear, carbonated liquid. It worked. Like, really, really, really worked. Rich wasn’t just fibbing and scamming him out of his money somehow. 

_Yes, Michael. I’m real._ Came the voice once more in what he assumed was a reassuring tone. __And so is your mother, she’s coming downstairs now. What are you going to tell her?  
  
           “Well, I uh… wait, you can hear her? How do you know?” It seemed wild. The whole experience was wild just in general and he didn’t fully know what this thing was capable of yet. It was kind of unnerving. 

_           I can hear her footsteps against the floor. Would you like me to handle the situation?  _

          To say Michael felt uncomfortable would have been an understatement. Reluctantly he gave a nod, then a hesitant vocal confirmation. A familiar sensation rushed through him and suddenly he was, again, no longer in control of his own body. Rapidly he got up to his feet, kicking the bean bag to the side and grabbing the nearest object to him that had decent length. It was some sort of pole that had just been tossed down there because there wasn’t room upstairs for it. 

          Sure enough, his mother opened the door to the stairway and slowly peaked down it, getting a good feel for the room before letting her gaze rest on her son. 

          “I heard screaming.” She’d stated, worry evident and clear in her voice. Michael felt a pang of guilt in his chest. A pang of regret. He shouldn’t have done this. When he went to the mall he should have just stuck with buying his crystal Pepsi and left it at that. He could have just checked out that guy to see if Rich was bluffing or not and carried on with his life like a normal human being but now he was drugged with a supercom-

          “There was a mouse.” His own voice uttered, sounding almost mechanical. Almost like Michael was dead. It just wasn’t him. He noticed how his voice got higher pitched toward the end of his sentence- a nice touch. Of course, the dread didn’t take too long to settle in that there may actually be a mouse somewhere down there with him but he tried not to think too hard about it. 

          “Oh, dear. Do you need any help? Do you want me to make you anything? Maybe you should come upstairs.” His mother walked down a few more steps, but he quickly interjected. 

          "I think it’s gone now, actually. I’ll come up in a bit, I’d feel bad if I just left this mess down here.” The string of sentences ended with a small nervous laugh, something he did often. “Really, I’ll be alright.” A forced smile. He was panicking now in his head. This thing, the Squip, it could really pull him off so well after only being in his head for a few minutes at most? He felt vile. He felt like he was being worn but that probably wasn’t the best wording and now he was even more uncomfortable. 

          “If you say so, but if you do need anything please, let me know. I’m here for you.” A small smile, still worried. Then she disappeared. 

          Dropping the pole the Squip had him pick up he relished in the feeling of his bodily autonomy. He never thought that he’d personally have to feel like it was being taken from him but… 

_           I know you’re afraid of mice. My apologies for putting the thought in your head, but I think you’ll find it was the most logical excuse for your behavior. Christmas, 2008.  _

          He shuddered. Christmas 2008 he had a major freak out that made the tree at his family reunion topple over and the dog when crazy when he started screaming bloody murder. He hated the thought of it. 

          “Yeah, uh, no worries? I guess?” He was at a loss for words. Now to make matters even worse, his basement was trashed. His mug of Mountain Dew had been spilled and mixed with his crystal Pepsi in a still amalgamation. Beanbag askew, game system slightly slanted from his thrashing, and now a supercomputer in his head telling him how to behave and act. It’d be a lie if he said he had no regrets.  
  
          Biting his lip he fiddled with a lump on the side of his pants, wondering if he should text Jeremy or not about the whole ordeal. After all they were best friends, and best friends tell each other everything, right? As he began pulling out the device he twitched, a random spasm of his muscles that nearly caused him to drop his phone. 

_           You realize I know everything you’re thinking, right? Everything you think about or plan on doing I know before your body even begins to do it.  _

          “What are you stopping me for? It’s just Jeremy we’re like… he’s my best friend. I dunno, I tell him like, everything. He’ll probably think you’re cool or something. I was just telling him earlier that technology has come a long way and that being a loser is okay because now we-” He was cut off by the newest addition in his head, an irritated sigh echoing in his mind. 

_           We’ll have to work on your speech patterns. _

          He frowned. It didn’t answer his question, but he thought it better not to pry for now. This thing in his head now, it had the ability to take control over his entire body. Make him move, talk, probably even think- that was the point of course, but now that it was happening for real it was horrifying. 

_           I’m going to improve your life, Michael. _


End file.
